I´m seated in front of the computer facing a new dilemma; how to write this post and how to take this step that will disclose a part of my life that will help those following these installments understand my psyche. Understand why I am this dramatic and why does my heart need to decant the black blood and snatch some oxygen from the world.
I remember one night in France, we were staying at the Concorde La Fayette in Paris. We were having dinner at their restaurant chatting and enjoying new flavors, new textures, new lovely smells (for me, he was sophisticated enough to know all about the French cuisine), then right in the middle of our conversation he got a call. The waiter came to his ear and asked him to take a phone call, he gave me a skeptical look got up and went to the bar.
Then, the waiter came and handled me a rolled-in white fabric-serviette and before living he asked me to unroll it right away and give it back. I did. I wish I didn´t though.
"I wish I could be there enjoying your company. I´m jealous of him"
This is what was written in the napkin. Those words plunged into my brain and took away my concentration. All the attention I was supposed to give to my partner was now focused on those words.
Minutes later Thomas came back, sat next to me and with a big smile came close and kissed me in the cheek. He never gave it a second thought when it came to show his love for me. He told me that the phone call was the manager of the hotel asking him if it was possible to change us to another room due to some kind of problems they were having with the heaters. He agreed and now they were placing us in another floor. It was January of 2000. We received the New Year in Madrid and went to Paris after a few days in Spain.
He noticed, right away, that I was pensive. He was always paying attention to my face, reading my gestures, even my blinks. He knew my face by heart.
Is everything all right?
Yes, everything is fine. Perfect. This food is amazing. I´ve never had it.
Is everything all right?
Yes, why are you asking me that again? Don´t look at me like that Amor, I´m all right. Really.
He smiled and ate a mushroom. Years after I understood that his smile wasn´t a smile of acceptance, it was a smile of evil. He knew what was about to happen.
We kept drinking white wine, I stopped when feeling dizzy. He asked the hostess about our new room and got a positive answer, we were ready to go upstairs and get in bed. I remember he asked me to take the last sip on his glass, put his arm around me and we both waited for the elevator. I looked back to the bar looking for someone who might be watching us leaving... I wasn´t able to meet anyone´s eyes. The elevator came, we stepped in and a few minutes later we were in our room. Then... I don´t remember anything.
I woke up in the morning. He was sleeping next to me and when he felt me moving around the bed he said:
Good morning baby. Come here. Don´t get up just yet. Let´s sleep a couple more hours. Come on.
I was feeling tired and figured it was due to the wine the night before so I went back to sleep. We woke up two hours later. He woke me up, sked me to join him in the shower. We washed each other with the love that was familiar between us. That love that made us feel comfortable. That love that made me feel so safe. He was smiling and kissing me all the time. My waist was sore.
You are my little Latino ass. You know? I like it when men here look at you wanting to fuck that little tushie of yours. I´m telling you.. they want you. But they can´t have you. Your ass is mine.
I was used to hear him saying those things so I didn´t really pay attention to the real meaning. Those things said back in Colombia didn´t mean anything (by then). If I only knew what those words meant back then right there.
We got ready to go out and see the city, well, he got ready first and went downstairs before I did. He said he was going to the restaurant to get some sandwiches so we can have a picnic in the park.... he left the room and minutes later the phone rang. I picked it up and...
I had the most amazing night. I was gentle.. I hope I was.
Then the call cut off... I felt electricity coming up and down my spine, I scanned my whole body with my mind focusing in any pain or any....sore....
Damn it... my waist... my.....
I got worried. I run into the restroom and got naked. I touched my ass and it stung. The room got small, really small. My mind was flying wild trying to remember what happened the night before. I couldn´t remember anything. My heart was racing. I was confused. I didn´t know what to think or what to feel. No wait... I did know what I was feeling... my butt was hurting.
I went downstairs and asked Thomas to go up to the room with me, he tried not to but I insisted. He came back with me and I told him about the phone call and what was happening with my body.
Don´t mind that... maybe is a fucking crazy staying here or maybe not... don´t pay attention to crazy phone calls.
I tried to insist on the subject and then I met a person I have never imagined could exist nor living with me under the same roof. His face changed. His eyes got darker. His mouth changed its shape, pursed. He came for my throat and before I could do anything he pushed me against the wall and made himself very clear.
You will do whatever I tell you to do. I can leave you here in this country but I won´t leave you in the streets I will sell you to a whore house and they will never let you go. Or, you can keep your mouth shut and let me tell you what you are going to do from now on
The little paradise turned into hell. He explained that it was an opportunity he couldn´t reject. A man offered him a lot of money to have sex with me and when he turned the guy down he said to Thomas:
Your boy doesn´t need to know. Give him this, in his drink before bedtime and give me a call I will be in your room five minutes later. You can take part of the fun or you can just close the door and look the other way. I promise he won´t find out
Thomas told me that he wasn´t going to accept the offer. But the man kept looking at him in the eye and got him convinced. The man gave him sachets of scopolamine which he gave me when I drank the last sip of his drink the night before.
By Mauricio Betancourt 2011©